Elementary, My Dear Zell
by Arkie
Summary: Ch4 finally here! Zell's sleuthing leads to slightly more suspense and much more hilarity! A smidgeon more danger! A skosh more...
1. Classroom Acrobatics

Huzzah! How is everyone? I'm fine, thanks for asking. To avoid all that silly red tape, these characters are owned by Squaresoft, not me, but if they were, I'd be friggin' rich. Warning: this fic has been known to cause spontaneous outbursts of laughter in humans, chimps, and unicellular organisms. Need I remind you that the Surgeon General says that a daily dose of mirth is necessary to maintain a healthy psyche and good bodily hygiene?  
  
  
  
Classroom Acrobatics  
  
Zell Dincht was hungry. He was, in fact, quite hungry. It is for this reason that he was headed for Balamb Garden's cafeteria, hastily in search of something to stuff into his face. Maybe, just maybe I can get one of the hot dogs, he thought to himself. He knew what he had been doing wrong all these years, and he intended to remedy that mistake today. He had come early.  
  
But not early enough, as evidenced by the illogically long line already formed at the lunch counter. If anything, it seemed longer than when he was on time.  
  
Nooooooo! thought Zell, but what he said was "Arrrrghhhhh! Ragginfragginsmarfrrginhotdogs!" He proceeded to, somewhat resigned, get in the line. He saw the lunch attendants open the counter, and begin handing out the golden-brown beauties to obviously pleased students. And they continued to dispense their edible wares, to the continued delight of their patrons. Meanwhile, Zell looked at his watch, played with his hair, threw feigned punches for a few minutes, and was generally impatient.  
  
After twenty minutes, the line had not apparently grown any shorter, and Zell saw Seifer Almasy and the Disciplinary Commitee, comprised of Fujin and Raijin, following in suit. Seifer strolled nonchalantly to the front of the line like he owned the place. This elicited a rather negative response from the other students in line, but Seifer gave a smug dangerous- looking grin and the complaints promptly ceased. Zell fumed inwardly, but did not say anything. He knew Seifer, and he hated the sight of blood. Especially if it was his and it was all over the floor of the cafeteria.  
  
Not soon after, he heard the bell for class ring. Many of the students in line groaned and dispersed, but Zell, ever the opportunist, sprinted to the front of the line. "Give me a hot dog, please!" he implored the lady behind the counter. "Sorry, hon. That kid over there got the last one."  
  
Zell seethed with fury, then turned to concentrate his rage on the unlucky recipient of the last frank. It was none other than the mild- mannered Nida, Balamb Garden's pilot.  
  
"You give me that hot dog!" Zell said through clenched teeth to the surprised boy.  
  
"What are you talking about? I skipped two classes to be here on time. Lighten up." replied Nida. Zell was beginning to calm down, and was ready to leave in dejection, but Nida made the unwise decision to add, "You psycho."  
  
The actions that took place immediately after this will not be explored in the interest of time and taste.  
  
Zell made his way up the elevator, shaking his probably bruised hand and stuffing the remains of Nida's hot dog into his pocket. He would have to ration this one carefully. It had to last him at least the week, since he had more than likely earned some detention time for whalloping the poor pilot.  
  
As the elevator gave a satisfied ding and opened its doors, the tardy bell rang. Oh, Lord no! thought Zell. He charged toward the classroom, burst through the door, which barely managed to open in time to accommodate him. He slid into the room, past Instructor Trepe, and proceeded to flip right over the study panel and into the lap of the student occupying it. After climbing to his feet, he brushed himself off like nothing had happened and said, panting, "Zell Dincht, present!" to which he added on an afterthought, "Ma'am."  
  
Quistis barely managed to restrain her laughter, but the rest of the class gave Zell no such courtesy. His face began to turn a rather dark shade of red, except the part covered with his tattoo.  
  
"Graceful, Chicken-wuss", said Seifer from the back of the room. The only one not laughing was Squall, which was a surprise to no one.  
  
Quistis took over. "Mr. Dincht, do you have an excuse for your tardiness? Well?"  
  
Zell thought carefully, then decided to ignore what he had just thought about and blurted out "I was late because I had to get a hot dog!" This elicited even more giggles from the class, and even Squall couldn't keep a smirk from his face. "And", he continued, "I wouldn't have been late if it weren't for Seifer cutting in line! Just because he's on the Disciplinary Committee doesn't give him the right to push us around!"  
  
"Actually, Zell, it does", countered Quistis. "Garden code 11832: Any Garden staff reserve primary right to all Garden services."  
  
Zell, looking thoroughly stupid, took his seat without further incident.  
  
Later that night as he was walking to his room, busily thinking of ways to dispose of Seifer without having to carry out the body, he was approached by Squall, Rinoa and Irvine. "Hey, what's up, Speedy Frank?" Irvine quipped. Rinoa buried her face in Squall's be-leathered shoulder, giggling loudly.  
  
"Oh, you're a riot. Go listen to some country music, you fruit."  
  
Squall called after him, "No, seriously Zell. Come with us. We want to talk." Zell didn't even turn around before saying "Then go talk to someone else." He continued to trudge down the hall.  
  
"It's about the hot dogs!" called Irvine.  
  
Zell stopped and stiffened. 


	2. 100%...Something

100%…Something  
  
The party walked to the Training Center. All the way Zell was wondering what the others could want to talk to him about, and what it had to do with his beloved hot dogs. They had to dodge a few Grats on their way, but it posed no problem for the hardened SeeDs. When they arrived at the Secret Area, they quickly shooed out everyone else there, interrupting several couples who were very busy necking and very displeased when they were forced to relocate.  
  
When they were finally settled, Irvine started the conversation. "Zell, you would do just about anything for a hot dog, wouldn't you?"  
  
Zell was caught off guard. This isn't right, his paranoid little mind thought, Something's up. He slowly started to back away from the others.  
  
"This isn't some kind of trick is it? I won't take any bets, even for a hot dog." He was prepared to run if they tried to restrain him, and his fists were readied at his sides.  
  
"Zell, would you just relax?" said Rinoa. "We're not going to do anything to you. Just listen for a second. We all know that the hot dogs are more valuable than adamantine around Garden. They're sensational. But…"  
  
"What", interrupted Irvine, "do you think they are made of?"  
  
Zell thought for a minute, which was ultimately futile, and replied with his usual astuteness, "Um…meat?"  
  
"We, that is, the three of us, are heading a research study of the Balamb Garden food service.  
  
"A secret study", countered Irvine. "How is it that they can make all that crappy food, yet one product is so unbelievably good that we are at a loss to explain it? We have heard tons of theories, but all of them tend to get around to what the things are made of."  
  
"Well, what are they made of?" inquired Zell.  
  
"Just between us, we managed to sneak an empty shipping box from the cafeteria that said they were '100%…Tasty!'. We then thought, 'Shouldn't there be some nutritional info on the side of the package?' There wasn't any. Zell, do you realize what this means?"  
  
The thought passed for a fraction of a second through Zell's mind, but then passed on to somewhere else while Zell continued to look stupefied.  
  
"It means", said Squall cryptically, "that not only are they violating 'Right to Know' laws, but there could be some kind of major scandal going on here. The hot dogs could be drugged or something, the product of a deranged corporate mind. You know, addictive so that they could drive up profits. Zell, we need to find out what is going on here, and you are the man we need. Imagine the headlines: 'Brave SeeD Uncovers Truth About Fetid Franks'. You would be rich, famous, and get primary billing when they made it into a movie. You would never want for a hot dog again."  
  
Zell's eyes became the size of plums and got that mystical haze to them. "So…what exactly am I supposed to do?"  
  
"It is your mission…no, your duty to SeeD and to yourself to stake out the cafeteria and determine just what goes on in there. Find out if the cafeteria workers are killing animals in there. Something."  
  
Zell was instilled anew with a sense of purpose, which could also have been defined as ego. "Well, OK. I'll do it."  
  
"And remember", said Irvine with as much sincerity as he could muster, "we're counting on you."  
  
Zell gave a melodramatic salute and strode off. Once he was out of earshot, the entire group erupted in hysterical laughter.  
  
"Tell Nida that the trap has been set, and the prey has fallen in." said Squall through choking chuckles. "By the way, I want my payment on delivery of the tape."  
  
"I wonder what Zell will do when he finds out what he's just gotten himself into?" mused Rinoa.  
  
"Probably get really red, stutter a lot, or maybe just hit some people." answered Irvine.  
  
They began to walk back to their respective dorms, very pleased with themselves. 


	3. Fearless Leader

Fearless Leader  
  
  
  
The next morning at breakfast, Nida was sitting alone at a table in the far back corner of the cafeteria. Soon he was greeted by Squall, Rinoa, Irvine and Selphie who were looking quite smug. Nida smiled inwardly, savoring the thought of poor Zell making an utter fool of himself. The jerk deserved it for thieving his hot dog. He would pay greatly in embarrassment, and Nida would pay his accomplices handsomely once the job was completed.  
  
His cohorts took a seat and gave Nida the update:  
  
"He took it hook, line and sinker." reported Squall. "Just appeal to his sense of duty and he's a perfect stooge."  
  
"And I already have the cameras set up in the back of the lunchroom. All we have to do is film him close range. That's where Selphie comes in", said Irvine.  
  
"Yep! I'll follow him like a shadow once he's inside. Also you can keep my money. All I want is to pilot Garden for a month."  
  
"Its done", replied Nida. "So what's the victim up to now?"  
  
At that very moment Zell came jogging up to their table, panting heavily, his face the color of a ripe tomato or a very tacky leisure suit. He looked as if he had something frightfully important to tell them all, but somehow no matter what he was thinking (or not thinking, as was more likely the case), he always managed to look like he didn't have a clue where he was or what was going on.  
  
He said through gasping breaths "I… huff, huff…forg…huff…" After a few moments he calmed down and was able to say "Now how exactly am I supposed to get into the lunchroom? I went up to the lady and said that it was really important for me to get in, but she just laughed at me."  
  
Squall sighed and shook his head. Selphie and Rinoa giggled quietly, but Irvine and Nida exchanged a brief smile of satisfaction, and Zell just became even more tomato-esque and glared, partly out of offense, but mostly out of ignorance at the party. "And what's this guy doing here?" He looked accusingly at Nida. "Oh, didn't the guys tell you? I'm the leader of the Bun Bandits. I'm the head cheese with this operation. And by the way, no hard feelings about beating the crap out of me, alright?"  
  
Zell began to look apprehensive. "Well…OK …"  
  
The others around the table looked confusedly at Nida, but Irvine gave them a reassuring wink.  
  
"Sorry Zell, we forgot to go over the plan with you. This is a very intricate operation, so let me give you the scuttlebutt…" Squall and Rinoa had to struggle to keep straight faces. What a genius, thought Squall. Zell was playing right into their trap.  
  
Irvine took over, "Tonight, we're going to try to gain entry to the enemy stronghold, i.e. the back of the lunchroom. Because this is a delicate mission, and we run a high risk of being captured, only one person will be escorting you. Once inside, you are to search and find any incriminating evidence you can, document or procure it and bring it back out ASAP. If you are captured you must say nothing of this group or its motives and intentions. Understood? I don't need to remind you of how serious this is, do I?"  
  
Zell, indeed quite serious, shook his head obediently.  
  
"Good. Meet here right as the cafeteria closes tonight. Our operative will be here to escort you through the lunchroom. Be ready. You'll have to be quick on your feet and sharp with your wits."  
  
At his last remark, the whole conclave had to restrain their laughter once more as Zell nodded with a greatly humorous candor and turned sharp on his heel and exited.  
  
"Well, I guess its set then. Are you ready, Selphie?"  
  
"Yeah. All I need is a fresh tape for the camcorder."  
  
  
  
Later that evening, as the last light was extinguished in the cafeteria and all hair nets were retired for the night, a lone figure was standing in the antechamber leading to the west wing of the Garden. The figure was wearing a dark trench coat and a battered fedora and was moving rather stealthily along the wall, hiding amongst the shadows. The figure also had calf length denim shorts riding along, swishing back and forth and making "denim noise" and generally behaving in such a way that one would think they would hamper one's stealthy movement. The figure would also stop occasionally to pull up the shorts, which appeared to be fighting a very intense fight with gravity, which they were sorely losing. Entering the unlit cafeteria, the figure spotted its quarry, a girl wearing a loud yellow tankini skirt and holding a large camcorder.  
  
As the figure neared the girl, it reached out a gloved hand (whilst employing the other one in holding up its shorts) and was just about to touch the girl on her bare shoulder. At this time, the figure's shorts decided to concede the point to gravity and resigned themselves to occupy the figure's ankles instead of its waist. This startled the figure and made it bend over hastily to reapply the pants to their normal space of residence, while at the same time alerting the girl to its presence.  
  
"Hey! Who are you?!" Selphie squealed. "Zell, is that you? Get your hands away from my behind!"  
  
"Yeah, its me", Zell muttered. As an aside, he also muttered a mild curse.  
  
"What are you doing?" she inquired, then saw his shorts in mid transit and said "Oh."  
  
"I'm in disguise", he said covertly "I don't want to be recognized if caught." He took a moment to look over his shoulder in a cliché, spy movie manner and then returned his gaze to Selphie.  
  
"Well, you'd do a lot better without the Funny Glasses. You look like Groucho Marx.  
  
Zell Promptly removed the plastic spectacles (with attached nose and mustache) and hid them in his coat.  
  
"So, time to get down to business?" he said.  
  
"Guess so. You nervous?"  
  
"Me? Are you kidding?"  
  
With that, Selphie turned toward the lunchroom, tape recorder in hand. As Zell began to follow her, a sound issued from somewhere in the room making Zell jump a height previously not thought to be possible and let out a falsetto yelp. In the process, his shorts once again chose to migrate to his ankles. Selphie turned to look at him, rolled her eyes and said, "Hey, are you slipping out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini? Wear a belt!" and kept walking. Under her breath she added, "Our fearless leader. Hyne help us." 


	4. Metaphoric rodents

****

I know its been awhile since the last chapter, but Arkie is back in business. There should be no more delays this long, unless something goes horribly wrong with my world-domination conspiracy. If any lengthy delays are needed, I will communicate it in my bio. Of course, any lengthy delays could also mean that many of you will soon be at the mercy of my armies of winged raccoons, so there may be no point in trying to read any more fanfiction. Tootles!

****

Elementary, My Dear Zell: 

Metaphoric Rodents

As Zell prepared to open the door leading to the bowels of the Balamb Garden cafeteria, he stopped to shed his bulky trenchcoat, at the behest of Selphie. Encumbered with the video camera, she lingered a few moments to fiddle with several buttons. Once Zell was free from his _raiment de noir, _he gave another look back over his shoulder. He could almost sense that something was amiss. Some part of his mind seemed to scream that something was wrong. Unfortunately, it happened to be the part of his mind that was normally occupied with thoughts of food, his lack of social grace, and Saturday morning cartoons. 

Once his common sense neurons had been sated with this alien tidbit of semi-intelligent supposition, the proverbial hamster proceeded to fall off its proverbial wheel, and, while said hamster was perfectly accustomed to its current predicament, it proceeded to scratch its proverbial little hamster head in frustration. After all, this hamster had spent many years and a great deal of effort to get back up on it's wheel, and then decided that it wasn't worth it, and went to go urinate in some proverbial cedar chips. This quickly restored the routine torrent of drivel flowing across Zell's synapses. 

"OK, ready", chimed Selphie with a smirk on her sickeningly adorable face.

Zell nodded and took position next to the door. In typical spy-movie fashion, he cracked the door, and thrust his hands in, apparently gripping his fists. When he realized he wasn't holding a gun, he quickly dropped them to their familiar places at his side. He looked around the dark corridor the opening had revealed: Typical sterile, white hallway that came to a T-junction about thirty feet ahead of him. When he was satisfied the coast was clear, he beckoned to Selphie to enter. She walked in casually as Zell stalked against the wall clandestinely. She giggled inwardly, something she was not accustomed to, since almost any situation lent to a hearty giggle in her fluffy little mind. Nida was going to be pleased when the footage was completed, as would the other students, for whom this tape was intended.

She thought ahead: she and Irvine had staked out the first few turns earlier that morning before being caught and escorted out. There was a veritable maze of hallways back here, some ostensibly leading down to the MD levels where an unknown power source fed the Garden's levitation system, it's electrical devices, and the powerful bank of industrial rotisseries that nurtured the infant hot dogs to golden-brown maturity. There were a myriad of maintenance shafts and offices that a person, probably wearing a costume intended to frighten Zell to the point of psychosis, could hide. Coincidentally, this is exactly what the current situation was. 

She smiled as Zell reached the first turn. Irvine was waiting in a heating duct two left and two right turns away. Selphie intended to lead Zell in that direction, ditch him along the way and let Irvine do the rest while she captured the imminent comedy on film, out of sight. 

Zell stopped at the turn and waited for her to catch up. She looked down both hallways, pretending to decide where they should go. 

"I think all the administrative areas are that way", she remarked, indicating the right fork in the hallway. "Probably nothing useful there. I think we should look for the kitchens."

"I don't know", Zell replied. "They may have some paperwork or something in there. Business vouchers, manifests, something telling where the food came from."

Selphie panicked. Why did Zell have to get smart all of a sudden? They hadn't counted on him doing the intelligent thing; his impulsive attitude had seemed like a magnet for the planned path. But she had to carry on, or the whole thing was shot. She'd have to be more subtle. Or at least a definition of subtle that Zell would understand. 

"Well, I think we should look down here. Let's go, now!" She turned defiantly and proceeded down the left path. Zell looked at her pleadingly, then down his desired venue, the look of despondency lacking only soft fur, droopy ears and a wet nose to achieve the ultimate in pitiful misery. His lost-puppy syndrome got the best of him, and he followed Selphie down to the left. When they arrived at another T, she leaned left and said suddenly, "This way!" Immediately she realized how suspicious it must have sounded, and apparently Zell agreed. 

"I don't think so. I'm going the other way", and proceeded down to the right.

Selphie was really worried now. If he got off on his own in here, they'd never find him. He was never this smart! Why did this have to happen now? She started to follow him, hoping she could catch him and come up with a story convincing enough to make him come back the correct way. As she rounded the next corner, full, unbridled panic seized her. The corridor was empty. Zell had disappeared. 


End file.
